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Survivor: Boss Level

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Send Help

by George Wolf

As much as Send Help feels like the Sam Raimi film that it is, the writing credits seem a bit unfinished. With a premise taken more from Triangle of Sadness than Castaway, and two pivotal plot points lifted from films I won’t mention for fear of spoilers, you’d expect at least an inspired by or story elements citation of the previous works.

No? Alrighty then. Raimi works from a script by the team of Damian Shannon and Mark Swift (Baywatch, 2009’s Friday the 13th, Freddy vs. Jason), providing the requisite dark humor, blood splatter and body fluids for a fun, root-for-the-underdog romp.

Linda Liddle (Rachel McAdams) is that underdog. Linda puts in long, committed hours in the strategy and planning department of a big firm. She’d been promised a major promotion from the founder (nice Bruce Campbell portrait on the wall!), but now he’s passed on and the d-bag son Bradley (Dylan O’Brien) has taken over.

And Bradley’s gonna give Linda’s promotion to his frat buddy instead.

Linda sticks up for herself, so Bradley gives her the chance to prove her worth at a big merger meeting in Bangkok. But when their plane crashes, Linda and Bradley end up as the only ones left alive on a deserted island. And right away, Linda’s skills are very valuable indeed.

Turns out, she’s a survivalist junkie who has auditioned for Survivor. Linda knows her way around the dangers of an uninhabited locale, while Bradley doesn’t know much beyond silver spoon-fed privilege. So Linda will not take kindly to being ordered around like the under-appreciated underling she was back in the office.

Bradley eventually becomes contrite, but can he be trusted? Linda appears ever helpful, but can she be trusted? Their castaway days become an increasingly bloody game of cat, mouse and wild boar, with some wonderfully competitive chemistry between McAdams and O’Brien.

She makes Linda’s transition to alpha female a crowd-pleasing hoot, and he crafts Bradley with a perfectly obnoxious mix of misguided mansplainer and smug elitist.

Yes, it’s over the top, just like you expect a Sam Raimi deserted island playground to be. What an unspoiled canvas for some blood spray, projectile vomiting, and a little survival of the deadliest. Game on!

Send Help delivers the R-rated fun, and it’s instantly relatable to the countless souls who’ve secretly dreamed of doing bodily harm to an insufferable boss. But it’s a comeuppance fantasy that still remains easily forgettable…unless you’ve seen the couple films it repeatedly recalls.

Then we’ll have something to talk about.

The Screening Room

Screening Room: Mercy, Return to Silent Hill, The Testament of Ann Lee & More

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On this week’s Screening Room podcast, Hope & George review Mercy, Return to Silent Hill, The Testament of Ann Lee, H Is for Hawk, Magellan, and Mother of Flies.

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Point of No Return

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Return to Silent Hill

by Hope Madden

When I used to pick my son up from his dorm, invariably there was a video game on whether anyone was playing or not. Mainly it was badly articulated characters delivering stilted, unrealistic but wildly dramatic dialog on an endless loop because, with no one playing, there was no action.

I could also be describing Christophe Gans’s twenty-years-in-the-making sequel, Return to Silent Hill.

I did not care for the filmmaker’s 2006 Silent Hill, a film that followed a mother into a supernatural town to save her adopted daughter. The sequel, also based on the incredibly popular video game of the same name, follows a distraught man (James Sunderland) who returns to a supernatural town to save his girlfriend (Hannah Emily Anderson).

Gans’s original at least boasted Radha Mitchell, who can, in fact, act. Gans didn’t give her much opportunity, but she tried. Do not look for that here. Though it doesn’t seem that acting is what Gans is after. He lights and frames actors specifically to make them seem less fleshy, less human. Their movement is stiff and unnatural, their dialog stilted and dumb. You truly feel like you’re watching a video game you’re not playing. Nobody’s playing.

You would hope that in the 20 years between projects, the creature design would have improved. Not the case. You rarely get a good eyeball on any of the creatures—and the video game does have a slew of creepy beasties to choose from—and when you do see them, they’re bland and they do nothing.

Because nothing happens in this movie. The entire film feels like being trapped in the between action set ups of a video game that nobody is playing. Nothing happens. There is no action.

Somebody thought the storyline, sans shootouts, without monster carnage, just the storyline of a video game was interesting enough to make a movie out of. They were incorrect.

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Somewhere Beyond the Sea

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Magellan

by Hope Madden

Lav Diaz’s 2-hour and 40-minute epic Magellan is not for the impatient viewer. With no exposition, a primarily stationary camera, and only one internationally known actor (Gael García Bernal in the title role), the filmmaker quietly undermines a historically accepted notion of exploration and perseverance.

Scenes have a painterly quality, the framing and lighting especially of interiors giving the impression of an oil painting. Each scene, threaded loosely together by time and location, feels more like a work of art into which characters tumble and behave.

Relying almost exclusively on long takes with an unmoving camera, Diaz emphasizes not the characters in a scene but its geography, its ecology. Even in sound design, the crash of ocean waves, the rustle of jungle leaves, the creak and moan of a ship at sea are given equal, sometimes even primary attention. These set ups let the environment dictate the scene, emphasizing the natural world and not the puny individuals so desperate to leave a mark.

Diaz, who generally films in black and white, revels in the hues and tones of the environments. Rich, deep browns in ship quarters conflict with the steely blue grey of the sky and ocean, which pale beside the rich greens of land. And the filmmaker insists that you notice, holding every shot far longer than expected so there’s nothing for you to do but take note of the brutal beauty.

The showiest thing about Magellan is its silences, what Diaz leaves unexplored and disregarded. Don’t go into this film expecting a rousing image of endurance and vision. This film is not impressed by the explorer. Diaz’s languid camera empties his film of the urgency you might expect of a film so pointedly critical of colonizers and exploiters, and that seems to be the point.

Diaz robs Magellan of the passion and romance often attached to his single-minded mission. The film’s unhurried nature subverts expectations and leeches the nobility from the history, leaving instead the impression of blundering, cruel acts performed by misguided, greedy men who died in the mud, far from home, while trying to steal land and enslave human beings.

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The Healing Skies

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H Is for Hawk

by George Wolf

“I don’t have a hobby, I have a hawk.”

“Mabel” became much, much more than a hobby for Helen Macdonald, and H Is for Hawk adapts their award-winning memoir with nearly equal amounts of the magical and the mundane.

Claire Foy is understated and touching as Helen, who was teaching English at a university in Cambridge when their beloved father Alisdair (Brendan Gleeson, characteristically splendid) suddenly collapsed and died in 2007.

Leaning on memories of exploring nature and birding with their father, and their years of experience in falconry, Helen channelled feelings of grief into the adoption and training of a Eurasian goshawk.

Just the fact that the emotional vessel here is a notoriously stubborn bird of prey instead of a dog, a horse, or a wayward teen is enough to stir your interest. Director and co-writer Philippa Lowthorpe rewards it early. Foy and Gleeson shine in some bittersweet flashbacks, and Helen’s cautious bonding with Mabel is in turns emotional and educational.

As Mabel hones her hunting instincts, the wildlife framing from cinematographers Charlotte Bruus Christiansen and Mark Payne-Gill can be beautifully majestic. Eventually, though, the lack of firmer hands from Lowthorpe and editor Nico Leunen begins to take a toll.

The pace of the film becomes laborious and plodding, enough to even overshadow the introspective and touching work from Foy. There is never a doubt we believe the healing journey Helen and Mabel are sharing, but the excessive documentary-ready wildlife footage eventually increases our detachment while it bloats the run time.

Despite the similarities with 1969’s Kes, Lowthorpe isn’t trying for a Ken Loach-style social critique. At the heart of this film is an intensely personal story of “an honest encounter with death.” It is a unique and well-crafted film, but the honesty of H Is for Hawk is just spread too thin for a truly memorable flight.

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Testify

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The Testament of Ann Lee

by Hope Madden

Filmmaker Mona Fastvold (The World to Come) draws you into her latest by dancing into the woods with an ecstatic group dressed a bit like Puritans. The dance feels simultaneously choreographed and organic, but definitely somehow forbidden.

The Testament of Ann Lee spins its period tale, the true story of a founding leader of the Shakers, with none of the baggage expected of a historical drama. Snapshots of formative moments are held together with liltingly earnest narration from fellow shaker Mary Partington (Thomasin McKenzie), and with dance.

It’s a tough film to fit into a neat category, as, it would seem, was Lee herself. Played undiluted passion by Amanda Seyfried, Lee is a self-contained human in progress, aware of herself, her inclinations, and the pressures around her. She knows God in an uncompromising way and wants only to find community as devoted as she. She finds it with the Shakers, so named because, unlike the Quakers, they dance.

What Seyfried delivers is just shy of astonishing. There is no artifice, nothing calculated or naieve. And though the script offers you room to find reasons for Lee’s faith and the hang ups that fuel her fervor, it does not decide for you or judge her.

Fastvold’s script, (penned with Brady Corbet, with whom she wrote last year’s Oscar contender The Brutalist), does not ask you to believe that Lee was the second coming of Christ, as she and her assembly did. Nor does it ask you to disbelieve it. But it asks, quietly and regularly, all kinds of questions, delivers all kinds of information, suggests any number of possible answers. The approach to the writing is anthropological without being burdensome or dry, while the direction itself is passionate and bold, not an ounce of cynicism or pretension.

If you know little or nothing about the Shakers, we have that in common. Among the many joys of Fastvold’s film is that it unveils information without belaboring points. You’re left with questions, not because you can’t follow the film, but because you’re intrigued enough to want to know more.  

This is a passionate, bold film about building community, finding and remaining true to yourself, and the unrivaled power of dancing.

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The Slate Is Never Clean

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In Cold Light

by Hope Madden

Maxime Giroux’s gritty thriller In Cold Light keeps you off kilter, moving from dreamy confusion to full-on sprint and back again.

Maika Monroe is Ava, and our first sprint with Ava ends in a violent drug bust. But after her two-year sentence, she finds herself back in Ponoka, Alberta. No fresh start, she’s clean but she’s otherwise ready to return to leading the smalltime drug operation she left behind. But they’ve moved on.

Her twin brother (Jesse Irving) tries to reason with her, tries to convince her to take the 40k he’s been setting aside for her while she did her time, but Ava can see that her once small operation has bitten off more than it can chew and is now dealing with real big, real bad guys.

She’s right, and those bad guys are the reason for more sprinting.

The story itself is somewhat simple, but Giroux, working from Patrick Whistler’s script, keeps your attention by revealing information as necessary, and by situating Ava’s world inside something lived-in but not ordinary. The context gives the story roots, authenticity, and opportunity for some pretty wonderful, dreamlike sequences.

Monroe’s sharp. The character of Ava is interior, speaking only as necessary, always thinking, weighting options. The performance feels caged, desperate but simultaneously controlled. Monroe’s long been a master of using stillness to manipulate a scene and an audience. She did it with precision in Watcher, among other films. Once again, Monroe uses an electric silence to say more than dialog could properly manage.

Giroux surrounds her with a game supporting cast. Troy Kotsur delivers a particularly layered performance, and a cameo from Helen Hunt is chilling. There’s not a weak link in the ensemble, and barely a stray or needless phrase in the script.

If anything, the film could have used maybe a few more sentences of exposition, especially as it closes. To leave so much up to interpretation invites the suggestion of plot holes, which In Cold Light doesn’t have, but it does leave more to the imagination than it probably should. Regardless, it’s a more than solid thriller and another impressive turn from Monroe.

The Screening Room

Screening Room: 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple, The Rip, No Other Choice & More!

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On this week’s Screening Room podcast, Hope & George review 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple, The Rip, No Other Choice, Dead Man’s Wire, The Choral, Night Patrol, Maldoror, Resurrection and Obex! PLUS! News & Notes from Daniel Baldwin, ada The Schlocketeer!

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Voices of Experience

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The Choral

by George Wolf

In case you need a reminder about the versatility of Ralph Fiennes, here it is. In the same week we find him trying to outsmart a psychotic gang leader while working to cure a rage virus in 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple, he’s also looking to assemble a suitable group of singers in the midst of WW1 for The Choral.

The man has range, and he’s wonderful as Dr. Henry Guthrie, who has returned to Yorkshire in 1919 after a career in Germany. Those ties draw suspicious catcalls of “Fritz!’ from the locals, but with many of the best male voices leaving for the army, the choral committee feels he’s the best choice to move the group forward as chorus master.

The blunt and uncompromising Dr. Guthrie isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect, which is evident right from the auditions. Fiennes gives him some delightfully pained expressions when notes are mangled, but glorious looks of enlightenment when true talent hits his ears.

Director Nicholas Hytner and writer Alan Bennett set a pleasing enough hook, but end up getting bogged down in a marsh of routine subplots and surface-level messaging.

Hytner (The Madness Of King George, The History Boys) gives the wartime period details a sheen that seems too glossy for an effective contrast between the boys who’ll soon go to the front and those coming home. It begins to resemble a more musical riff on Dead Poets Society, but the boys’ wartime bravado and impatience for sexual experience just distract from the more engaging conflict with Dr. Guthrie.

Due to the young age of his best male voice, Dr. Guthrie has to make some story changes to the Choral’s performance piece, “The Dream of Gerontius” by Edward Elgar – without telling Elgar himself.

And then guess who shows up.

If the themes of wartime loss and sacrifice cut deeper, the performance tension would play an understandable supporting role. But little outside of Fiennes’s orbit holds your attention, and The Choral settles into its place as a perfectly generic period drama.

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Visual Insanity

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OBEX

by Adam Barney

Filmmaker Albert Birney made quite an impression with his previous film, Strawberry Mansion, injecting whimsy and surrealism into a story about a government audit. Stuffed full of creatures and characters brought to life with an appealing DIY aesthetic, the film was a love letter to creating art and felt like it had been made by a less cynical Michel Gondry. It also made me excited for whatever Birney might be doing next.

OBEX is a black and white hallucination of a film that would be a perfect find if you were flipping channels at midnight and came upon it. It’s so weird that you’d wonder the next day if you actually watched it or just dreamed it up after some iffy late-night leftovers. It’s smaller in scale than Strawberry Mansion, but that is intentional as it is focused on one man’s odyssey to leave his home.

Conor (Birney) is a loner self-imprisoned in his home with his companion, a sweet dog named Sandy. His only apparent connection to the outside world is Mary (Callie Hernandez), a nice neighbor who delivers his groceries and tries to have conversations with him from the other side of his front door. Conor spends his days playing games on his old Macintosh and watching tapes from his vast VHS collection. One day he responds to an ad in a magazine about a new game that promises the adventure of a lifetime – OBEX.

OBEX appears to be quite dull as a computer game, but that is before the real adventure begins. A demon crawls out of Conor’s computer and kidnaps Sandy the dog and retreats to his nightmare castle beyond the dark forest. Conor must now face his fears and past traumas as he will risk everything to leave the safety of his home to go on a fantasy adventure to save poor Sandy.

Birney mashes up tropes from retro video games and the 80s to create an imaginative journey that has the right amount of madness to keep things interesting and rolling along. Conor must face off against evil skeletons and insect men with a sword that looks like it came from Spirit Halloween. He also makes friends with Victor, a guy who has an old television for a head, and a fairy (Hernandez, pulling double duty) who runs a shop that sells anything an adventurer might need. The cast is game and helps fill out the fantasy world Birney is building.

OBEX is a fun little journey about a man conquering his fears and rejoining the world. Not as crazy or stressful as Beau Is Afraid, OBEX wears its heart on its sleeve as a nostalgic adventure that feels like comfort cinema.